Compatible
by SalamanderLights
Summary: ONESHOT. Hermione Granger had changed. But then again, so had Lavender and Bill. "It must be the gift of the wolf, being able to undo a bra." PWP.


A/N: I might make this into a proper story if anyone takes a liking to it? Or at least, I'll have a go :)

Disclaimer - JK owns all.

Hermione Granger had changed. She was still a war heroine. She still had bushy hair. She still loved books. But she had changed. Well, to become friends with Lavender Brown she _had_ to have changed. But then again, so had Lavender.

Lavender.

That girl had been one to admire since the end of the battle. Suffering an attack from Greyback and _still_ wanting to get into a relationship with Ronald of all people. The new couple were together almost every day, and night.

Apart from the full moon.

Lavender changed at the full moon. Not into a werewolf, Greyback didn't bite her, but she still changed if those scars down the girls back had anything to say about it. Lavender would get more restless. Vicious. Controlling. Dominating. Rough. _Animalistic. _And Hermione had volunteered to 'watch over' her at such times, until Ron felt he could look after her himself that is. Or at least, that's what they told people Hermione was doing each time a circular moon rose.

"Pass the potatoes please, Hermione?" a voice asked, snapping her out of her reverie. Bill. It was Bill that had brought her out of her contemplations. He had changed too. And his scars were in view. Facial. But he still looked as handsome as ever.

She passed the potatoes across the highly crowded dining table at The Burrow. It was Sunday and the usual crowd was there. Including Lavender. She had seemingly become a fixture in the household, only returning to her own home on the evenings of the full moon. In other words, later that night.

But Bill was there too. He had moved back in after Fleur left him last year. She 'couldn't take the scars', bloody perfectionist. Nor could she take his 'change in mood' once a month. Probably a good thing, nobody ever really liked her. Bill found it no big loss either, if the veela didn't love him then fine.

"And here's the steaks!" came Molly Weasley's loud voice over the din of the household. "On the rare side of course" she continued, smiling down at Bill and Lavender whose eyes momentarily flashed amber. Another side affect their scars brought; a penchant for rare meat that enticed the wolf within them.

The flashing of the eyes was the main indicator that their inner beast was getting stronger, influencing them more. It happened the days surrounding the full moon mainly. But there were other triggers. Anger. Raw meat. Blood. Frustration, namely, sexual frustration.

It had even happened when someone was threatening Lavender's 'mate'. Or in other words, her partner. She and her wolf were very protective of Ron. It was something new that Hermione had learnt of part-werewolves. They, and their wolf, chose a suitable 'companion'. Someone who was everything they needed. Apparently Ron was everything the blonde needed.

Hermione looked down quickly as Mrs Weasley placed the platter of bloodied meat before her, certain her eyes had flashed as well at the sight of the food. Amber. Everyone would notice if her eyes flashed amber. Everyone would _know_ if they saw the scars on her stomach. Scars. From that fateful night on the run where they had been captured. Bellatrix had left her for Greyback.

Lavender knew. They were in the same boat after all. And Ginny. You can't share a bedroom with the red head and expect her not to notice the claw marks gracing your stomach.

So they formulated a plan so no one else would know. People still looked down on werewolves and their victims. What if the momentous amount of job offers she had received receded with the news of her nocturnal habits?

She was Hermione Granger, cleverest witch of her age. Not Hermione Granger part-werewolf, victim of Fenrir Greyback. She was supposed to be the pillar of strength for everyone, and nobody was to be her rock of support. She didn't want the pitying glances her adopted family would give her. Merlin knew Lavender hated it. So she pretended she was fine. And each month she went to Brown Manor to 'look after' Lavender.

They looked after each other in reality. When their energy levels rose and the animal tendencies took over, the pair took to practicing hand to hand combat, or boxing. Not that it was needed anymore since the war was over. But it was needed for _them_.

They would return in the morning as good as new thanks to a variety of potions. And no one was ever any the wiser that Hermione needed them 'sessions' as much as Lavender did.

But tonight, she wasn't going with the blonde. Ron was. After seeing the changes in his brother for almost a year he had finally gathered the courage to stay with Lavender on the full moon. If he planned to propose at some point then he would need to, right? Sickness and in health and all that…

But where did that leave her? Lavender would have her restlessness sated in a more carnal way, unquestionably. Hermione had no doubt the pair would be consummating their relationship for near on the millionth time. She just hoped Ron was the submissive kind as Lavender would be very much in control for the coming evening. Maybe that was why they were so 'compatible'.

And she was left at The Burrow. Alone.

She could survive. Bill did. The eldest brother locked himself away in his room at moon rise. With a punch bag, she believed. And wards, so many wards to stop people entering his room. Or maybe to stop him from leaving.

She couldn't just stay in Ginny's room though. That would not be fair on the youngest red head in the slightest. She might do something she would regret. Not that that had _ever_ happened before. If Hermione Granger was one thing, it was controlled. That was how in the past few months no one had noticed her agitation, or her eyes. They didn't see when all she wanted to do was lash out physically. She repressed it. Controlled it. She could give Severus Snape a run for his money with _her_ self-control.

"You alright Hermione?" a voice once again entered her musings. "You're staring at your vegetables as though they've dishonoured your family."

Her head snapped up. Fred. Of course it was. "I'm quite fine, as are my vegetables. No harm will come their way" she smiled.

"Is it time for pudding yet mum?" called George, cutting off his twin and looking down at his empty plate with a playful sadness.

"Yes, George. Be quiet" came Molly's loud voice again, this time from the kitchen. She walked back to the dining table moments last with the biggest chocolate cake any of them had ever seen. And it stank. In a nice way, chocolate was always nice. But, still. The smell was pungent.

She watched as Lavender winced as she caught a whiff of it. Then Bill scowled, turning his nose away from the dessert. She fought. She really did fight to not grimace also. Why did she have to have an advanced sense of smell nowadays? Especially in the Weasley household! _And_ a heightened sense of hearing for that matter! Some days the ruckus was almost too much.

She was shocked that Bill hadn't worked out that she bore the same affiliation as him. She and Lavender could smell it on one another. The smell that wasn't quite human. But then, she only ever saw the red head at the Burrow, where the only smell for hours was the constant cooking of Mrs Weasley. And even if he did catch a whiff of something not quite right, he probably put it down to Lavender's occupancy of the house.

How wrong he was.

When dinner was over, Lavender and Ron departed, arms around one another as if they were the only two people in the world. And in their world, they were. At least they didn't leave before the blonde could hug, apologise yet again, and whisper encouragement into her ear for the night to come.

Bill made his way upstairs. Quickly at that.

But Hermione remained seated at the table, pretending to read. The rest of the Weasley clan drifted upstairs as the evening wore on. And just as the moon rose, the last occupant on the ground floor came to give her one last squeeze before turning in.

Ginny.

She attempted not to growl at the human contact as the girl hugged her. "Ward your room tonight" she managed to force out, feeling her roguish animalistic nature begin to overwhelm her. She wanted so desperately to be feral and wild.

"Okay" the girl whispered before looking into her eyes. Ginny's small gasp of surprise let her know that they were pure amber. "I don't know how you do it 'Mione. But I trust you to keep yourself safe."

Ginny climbed the stairs, not looking back.

Hermione let her shoulders sag. She loved the girl, she truly did. But it wasn't okay for the red head to remain alone in the same room as a beast like her. She wanted to break things. Ravage things. Dig holes in the garden with just her finger nails for who knew what reasons. Ginny couldn't see that. And Merlin forbid she be the victim of it.

She couldn't stay inside. Sighing, she got up and moved to the door. Opening it quietly she slipped out into the garden, casting a silencing charm over the entire house in case she decided to indulge her inner beast and reek carnage for all she was worth.

Hermione didn't know how long she stood there, rigid in the garden of The Burrow, staring up into the clear night and to the moon.

She didn't know how long she fought the urge to run around destroying whatever she could see. The urge to punch things. To shout. To curse Fenrir Greyback to the lowest depths of hell. But she resisted. Rather well even if she did say so herself.

So deep in her musings and restraint was she that she didn't hear the kitchen door opening once again. And she should have heard that, given her enhanced senses and all that.

"What's up?" a voice came from behind her, making her jump and almost, _almost_, growl. Not that the voice that spoke was any different. If she didn't know better she would guess that the mystery intruder was trying immensely hard to keep _their own_ voice under control.

She sniffed. She could smell Bill. Well, he would be fighting to keep more than his voice under control then.

She whirled around, eyes flashing and she knew it.

"What's up?" she growled, smirking when the man recoiled as he took note of the eyes. The glowing amber orbs that gave away her secret. "That's what's up!" she yelled, pointing to the sky.

The moon.

"What are you doing out here Bill?" she growled, looking back up at that glowing menace in the sky. "I thought you stayed locked in your room on nights like this?"

"And I thought you 'helped' Lavender" he snarled back. "I had no idea you were hiding _this_ from us when you said you were going to accompany a part-werewolf for the evening."

She knew his raised and angry voice was not his doing. It was the wolf. Hers was doing the same. She had a strong compulsion to ravish the man in front of her to test for 'compatibility' as the beast called it. Wolves needed mates. Lavender had found a suitable companion for herself, a normal human admittedly, and that left them two. The lone wolves.

"What was I supposed to do?" she snapped, thanking whatever deity she could think of for the idea of silencing the house from the outside noise. "I couldn't exactly tell the press that Fenrir freaking Greyback attacked me, could I? I'd lose my job, if I finally accept one that is. They write me as someone children should look up to in the paper, I can't have kids looking up to _this_" she growled, pulling up the front of her shirt to reveal the four long scars that marred her stomach, glinting silver in the moon light.

She didn't know what reaction to expect from the wild man before her, but it certainly wasn't for a feral growl to rise up his throat and sound into the night air. It was almost a howl.

Bill strode purposely forward until he had her pinned against the side of the house, arms either side of her head and bodies pressed together. Her self-control must have been slipping as she could do nothing to stop the increase in her heart rate or breathing.

"Your scars make you beautiful, Hermione" he breathed raggedly into her ear. As he pulled back she looked into the eyes that moments ago were pure amber, but now had flecks of the original blue shining through. It wasn't just the wolf that had spoken. It was _him_ and his wolf. "Living on the wild side is nothing to be ashamed of."

She shivered. Whether it was from the weather or the compliment she had no idea. But Hermione had become all too painfully aware of the _frustration_ that had been plaguing her for months. Physical combat could only release so much stress.

She growled.

"Then might I add" she said once she got her thoughts and feelings under a somewhat steady amount of control "that yours make you look more handsome then you already did?"

She didn't know what possessed her to do it. But she did it all the same. She raised her hand up and ran her fingers along the scars across his cheek. That one movement seemed to snap the rest of their control as both wolves took over. Matching amber eyes locked for a millisecond before lips met lips in a bruising kiss. All their pent up sexual energy flowing between the pair in a kiss of brutal passion that, despite what others may have believed, was still in their control.

They could have stopped if they wanted to. They were not at total mercy to the other part of themselves. They could have gone for a run in the surrounding forest instead of indulging in a dulling on the tongues. But they didn't.

Hermione moaned and buried her hands in Bill's hair, letting it down from its usual ponytail she pulled on it almost violently. Everything about them seemed violent.

Not one to be up stepped, Bill responded by ripping the front of her shirt open. His hands found her breasts easily, and with movements quicker than any normal human male, he succeeded in removing her bra too. It must be the gift of the wolf, being able to undo a bra.

One thought floated across her mind before it went blank at Bill's touch, but the response was immediate. _Remove_._ Clothes_. Moments later saw the remains of two different shirts on the floor. And two different trousers. Plus a bra.

Neither could admit that what they were engaged in wasn't arousing. Bill's boxers had been tented since their lips first met and Hermione became more and more turned on the rougher the oldest Weasley became. They both needed this, more than either human brain could know.

With just two pairs of underwear between them Bill thrust his already rigid erection against her hip. A jagged growl of utter most pleasure tore from Hermione's throat in an instant before she removed his last layer of clothing and took his cock in hand. Squeezing hard she pumped him up and down in rapid succession, gentleness could wait.

As if she thought she couldn't be any more stimulated, her underwear was simultaneously ripped from her person as three digits entered her. Her cry of shock and unrestrained lust raised birds from their nests. The disgruntled creatures flew past the ever glowing orb in the sky that cast a bright glow on what was unfolding up against the wall.

With what felt like no time to waste, as though their world would fall apart if they didn't feel each other properly in that instant, Bill lifted Hermione around the waist with inhuman strength and plunged into her, making sure to wrap her legs firmly around him as he did so. Her back remaining on the Weasley household's wall.

No words were spoken as William Weasley thoroughly shagged Hermione Granger in his back garden, under the minimal influence of the full moon. They both wanted this, wolves be damned. No words were spoken as no words _could_ be made. Pants. Growls. The occasional howl as he hit a partially sweet spot. Their coupling was carnal and ferocious, driven by a hidden lust and craving. It was so bestial that it bordered on erotic.

With sweat pouring down their bodies Hermione let her head fall back and screamed in ecstasy as Bill's finger made contact with her clit. She was yet again thankful for the charm she placed on the house. Birds even further away from them now seemed to be evacuating their nests due to the noise pollution.

As her body clamped around him like a vice in wave upon wave of orgasmic bliss, she vaguely noticed Bill's thrusts becoming more erratic; not that they were rhythmic in the first place. Their animalistic nature seemed embodied in every unpredictable, nauseatingly fantastic thrust he gave that she met with wanton abandon. Mere moments later he joined her in checking into cloud nine.

As their breathing slowed and Hermione's legs once again found solid ground, they leant their heads together; seemingly trying to regain function of their sensibilities after such mind shattering climaxes, neither having experienced anything _that_ incredible before.

Bill's hands lightly traced the scars on her stomach, still glowing in the evening light, as her hand once again began to stroke his cheek. The moment seemed a far cry from the outwardly violent display just minutes previous.

Clouds blocked the ever watching moon from view as flecks of chocolate and blue entered the once pure amber irises of the couple. Small smiles graced their faces as they took note of one another's eyes, wondering how long the original colour would remain.

But one thing seemed for certain; they undoubtedly were compatible.


End file.
